


keep me in the dark

by stuckonylove



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Bucky Barnes Is A Ghost, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, PTSD, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Suicide Attempt, THAT GOT DARK BUT I PROMISE THIS FIC IS WHOLESOME, Triggers, Unfinished Business
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-12-07 23:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckonylove/pseuds/stuckonylove
Summary: Nothing was ever easy for Steve Rogers, and he couldn’t recall a single friend he’d ever had, but after moving into a quiet town at the beginning of the summer, he meets Bucky Barnes, an unusual individual who was lurking around in Steve’s closet. Bucky isn’t a normal human. In fact, he’s not really human at all. Bucky has a secret.He’s dead.Follow Steve as he vows to help Bucky complete his unfinished business and cross over to the other side, and read through many exciting twists along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so excited to be back with (new!!!) stevebucky stuff!! my life revolved around visions i vandalize for a while, so it is nice to find something different.  
if you are new here, hi! i am caroline, but most call me caro. this is my second chaptered fic, and i have the whole plot already planned out. (if you're not new, you know that i get ahead of myself lol)  
i hope everyone enjoys :)

Everywhere that Steve Rogers went, bad things just seemed to follow. His troubled past made it hard for him to express to people, and even then, he _purposefully_ tried to keep it all inside. You know how people did that? When they were careful who they talked to because they were afraid of what might happen? Well, that was how he felt, putting a wall up like a lot of people.

Except Steve's wall was about 50 feet hight. With barbed wire. And armed guards at the gates.

But that wall started to crumble just a bit the day he met Bucky Barnes.

*

At the age of seventeen, Steve had moved more times than most kids his age would in their lifetimes, and at this point, it was so customary to him that at the beginning of each year, he would wonder how many homes he'd have in the next 365 days. This was due to the fact that he and his mother had never had the best luck in fitting in. It wasn't their fault really, more of his father's, who'd attempted to kill Steve and his mother, Sarah, when Steve was just eleven years old. That wasn't the start of Steve's issues (he'd experienced enough alcohol and drug use from his father up until then that he could probably write a manual on how to use them), but it set off something for Steve that he'd never been able to recover from.

Since the day his father was arrested almost six years prior, Steve and Sarah had lived in nine different places, always trying to find a quiet place where no one knew them. They only wanted a fresh start. Five of those times, they'd relocated due to Sarah not being able to find a job. Two of their moves were because Steve hated the schools, and the other two were due to both of them having PTSD and not being able to cope with any heavy drug use and alcoholism they saw in the towns. So here they were, having moved for the tenth time in Steve's life, to a small two-story house on the outskirts of Brooklyn. It was far enough away from the city that it was quiet outside, but it was close enough to the stores and such. Steve had to admit, they were always able to afford decent places because of mother's parents. They had money coming out of their asses, but they were always quick to help the two of them. Maybe getting a new place every once in a while wasn't half bad.

Oh, who was Steve kidding? It was always a fucking nightmare.

It was January, the first day in the new house, and Steve had attempted to kill himself, something he'd thought about doing in the previous three houses, but never roughed up enough courage to do it. Sarah found him, and she rushed him to the ER, where they worked on him for hours. Steve didn't remember much that happened for a few weeks after that. He was in the hospital for a month, and then he went to a recovery program for almost three, so he didn't even get to start school that year. By the time he was out and home, the semester at the high school they'd planned on was halfway over, so there was no point in starting then.

"It's okay, honey," she'd told him. "We'll get you enrolled first thing at the end of the summer, and maybe then, everything will start to get better. You could finally make some friends at this one, you know?" Yeah right. Steve was never any good at making friends. It was pretty difficult to find anyone with shared life experience. He'd just mope around and do the bear minimum for seven hours a day, five days a week, so that he could go home and stay buried from the world for two before it started all over again. Not the most exciting thing. But now that he was at home, he had the the entire summer to sit around and wait for the _glorious_ first day of school as the new kid, something he was way too used to.

Sarah had found a job that let her work from home, as she was afraid to leave Steve alone in the house, as any mother would be after all they'd been through, and it was honestly comforting for Steve to have her there. Most seventeen year olds would cringe at the thought of spending the summer at home with their mom, but for Steve, Sarah was his only true source of happiness, and he was glad to be cooped up with her any day. On this particular day, a Wednesday to be exact, Steve decided that it was appropriate to get all of his things unpacked, as his stuff had been piled up in his new bedroom floor for over three months. He'd been home since Monday, so he decided he'd put it off long enough.

Steve didn't have much to unpack now that he thought about it. Aside from his clothes, he wasn't a person who kept many things. He didn't hold much sentimental value to things, but that was probably due to the fact that nothing in his childhood was really even worth remembering. It had only been two days since he'd gotten home from the hospital, and he hadn't really seen any part of the second floor except for his room and his bathroom, so he decided to explore a bit before sorting out his clothes.

The second floor of the house was essentially just a hallway that started at the top of the stairs and continued to the end of the house. It was a good sized hallway however, as Steve could stretch his arms all the way out without touching the walls on each side. His room was the first room on the right, and it took up most of the space on that side aside from his bathroom. On the other side of the hallway, there were three doors, the first being a small closet that upon opening, he discovered they were keeping all the extra towels and blankets in. The second room was an office that Sarah had set up for Steve while he was in recovery. She knew that Steve loved to write, and it was her welcome home gift for him. It made Steve even more thankful for his mother, and he swore to himself that he'd try to start using it before the end of the week.

Following the hall, he reached the last room on the left, and he pushed the door open, finding a completely empty room. By the size of it, it looked to be someone's bedroom, and Steve eased into it, examining the nothingness of it. It definitely had a bigger closet than his, and even though Steve didn't have much, the boy had a shit ton of clothes, so that extra one could come in handy.

As Steve got back to his own room, he decided to get all of his winter clothes and put them in the other closet for the time being, as he didn't see himself needing them any time soon. He gathered them up in a separate box, and he lugged them down the hallway, using his foot to kick the door open. For the next hour, he took everything out of the box and got it all on hangers, and he stepped back to marvel at the full closet.

Damn he _really_ had too many clothes for someone who hated going out.

It was long after he finished that his mom called him down for dinner, and he left all his other clothes for another day, as he was honestly tired (too tired for only having put clothes away but whatever), and he let himself lay down early. Steve's sleep schedule wasn't the best, but he'd decided that even though he didn't get the best start in this house, he wasn't gonna let it stay that way, so he got comfortable in his bed for what would be the longest he'd slept in a long time.

Okay, it was _only_ a little over five hours, but that was a lot for him, so as he woke up in the middle of the night, he wasn't irritated as he usually was, and he got up to pee. He didn't notice it on the way to the bathroom because he used the door from his bedroom to get to there, but for some odd reason, he decided to use the hall door of the bathroom to go back to bed, and that's when he saw it. The door to the second bedroom was open, and he didn't remember leaving it that way. Trying to convince himself he just forgotten, Steve couldn't help but inching closer to it, and when he reached it, he worked up the courage to quickly swat it all the way open with his hand.

Nothing.

He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but the room was empty, just how he'd left it hours earlier. As Steve made fun of himself on the inside for even starting to think that anything odd was going on, he _did_ notice something different. Lying across the room, just now coming into view as Steve's eyes adjusted, was one of his sweaters that he'd put away for the summer.

Steve might have left the door open without remembering, but he knew for a fact that he did not leave a sweater spread out perfectly in the floor. Not willing to admit that he was simply going crazy, Steve tried his best to disregard the sweater and go back to bed, but his mind wouldn't slow down. Why in the world would a sweater that he'd vividly remembered hanging up end up on the floor? Steve soon heard a rustling coming from across the hall, and he sat bolt ass upright in the bed, unable to ignore it. As he eased out of bed, Steve assured himself that nothing was wrong. He'd just started to imagine things in the dark.

Right?

As he pushed the door open, he saw that now the sweater wasn't on the floor anymore, as it was hanging on the doorknob of the closet.

"Hello?" Steve asked quietly. Nothing. He slowly walked over to the closet, and he swung the doors open, halfway expecting to see a murder jump from inside. Nothing. So maybe he _was_ going insane. Deciding that standing in the empty room waiting for something to happen was pointless, Steve went back to bed for a second time, nothing disrupting him this go around, and he fell back asleep after straining his ears for a while trying to hear literally anything else.

The next morning, Steve found himself up early, having gone to bed before he usually did, and he walked downstairs, completely forgetting the events from the night. It was around 7:30, and the sun wasn't even all the way up, so he made coffee quietly and slipped out the back door to sit on the porch. As he sat in once of his mother's wooden rockers (her favorites that she _had_ to buy when she saw them), Steve sipped his coffee and hummed as the rising sun warmed his skin. It had been so cold that winter, and it was finally warming up, much to Steve's delight. His eyes scanned over the backyard, something he hadn't explored yet. It wasn't huge, but it was decent-sized, and it had a short decorative fence around it. There was round picnic table just a few feet off of the porch Behind it was a garden plot, to which Sarah had been ecstatic about, and on the other side, in the far right corner, there was a shed with multiple chains with locks holding the door tightly shut. Steve had only been in there once, and it was where he tried to end his life all those months ago. He thought it would be such an obscure place that no one would find him until it was too late, but he had underestimated the skills of a mother who couldn't find her child.

Sarah had found him laying on the ground inside of it, and the decisions that she made saved his life. She didn't waste time in getting him in an ambulance, and she gave them permission to do whatever they possibly needed to in order to save her son. When Steve was stable and she had the chance to leave the hospital, Sarah went to the hardware store and bought three heavy locks, and she made sure no one was gonna get in that shed. She never went inside again, so she never saw the note he'd written. Although, Steve didn't even really remember what it said, as he was high on adrenaline when he wrote it.

Steve's eyes were pulled towards the small building, but he tore them away quickly, and as he finished his coffee, he got up to head back inside, but something stopped him. He looked over the fence where he swore he saw something dart down and out of sight. He quickly remembered what happened in the middle of the night, but he dismissed it, as he turned to the door and pondered if he was losing his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story will start off a little slow, but i already have so much planned, so bare with me for the first couple of chapters!!  
let me know how you feel/think!! feedback is what helps me get my shit together and write lol  
also i know most of you said you saw bucky as the ghost when i asked about this trope weeks ago and i agreed so here we are  
***ALSO, did anyone catch my reference to a line in the winter solider? i'll give you a virtual high five if you can point it out ;)
> 
> hope you'll stick around!  
xo caro


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i knowwww that this might seem a little slow rn, but i literally have the entire story already written in my head, so don't worry bc it's gonna get so much better :)

When Steve walked into the house, he saw his mother sitting the couch, angled towards the back door as if she'd been watching him. He knew she probably had been, but he didn't say anything.

"You okay, sweetie?" She asked. "You're usually not up this early." Steve shrugged his shoulders as he sat down on the couch beside her.

"I woke up like half an hour ago, couldn't sleep," he said, taking the very last sip of his coffee. "What are you up to today?" He asked her. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before getting up off of the couch and walking to the kitchen. 

"I'm gonna read for a bit," she called to him. "And if you'll help me, when it warms up a little more, I'm gonna get started with the flowers out back." Steve groaned, but agreed, and he made his way back upstairs to get out of his pajamas and put on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. For a while, he worked on tidying up his room and getting the the rest of his stuff put away until he got bored and stopped halfway through. Steve plopped down on his bed, and he closed his eyes, feeling sleepy again. He dozed off for a while, but was woken back up when he _swore_ he heard his door creak as if someone had pulled on it. As his eyes snapped open, he saw that his door was in fact open, and from this angle, he could see the office door open from across the hall. Swinging his feet off the side of the bed, he walked into the hallway and looked down to the second bedroom. The door was close, just how he left it, but he knew he'd left the office door closed as well, so he eased closer to it, his heart beating steadily with anticipation. Peering in from around the door frame, Steve saw nothing but the few pieces of furniture his mom had put in the room, but something was different about the desk. There was a small black book lying in the middle of it, and Steve walked over and plopped down in the chair. 

Opening the book, he flipped through it quickly, seeing nothing but blank pages. Steve looked on the inside of the cover in the front, and in the top left hand corner, scrawled in tiny writing, was, "J. B. B." As he wondered what it could stand for, Steve laid the book back down on the table, open to the first page. He peered around the room for anything else that could be different, but upon noticing nothing, he looked back down at the book to find a surprise. Something had been written on the top of the first page.

_Hi._

That's odd. Steve grabbed a pen out of the desk drawer and jokingly wrote "Hi" underneath it. He started to doodle in the corner when he caught something appear on the page out of the corner of his eye. The pen fell out of his hand and clambered onto the desk while he watched letters being scribbles onto the page by a nonexistent pen.

_What's your name?_

Steve blinked hard to make sure he was seeing right. What the hell? He picked his back up, and with a shaky hand, he wrote,

_It's Steve. What's yours?_

After a few moments, something else appeared.

_Mine's Bucky. I live here too._

"I'm sorry, what?" Steve accidentally asked out loud. Words formed on the paper as if whoever or whatever behind them could hear Steve's voice.

_I know that it doesn't make a lot of sense. I wish I could explain it better. _

Steve quickly picked up his pen, but after remembering that it could hear him, he spoke instead.

"I can listen," he said, softly to make sure his mother didn't hear him and think he was talking to himself. "Why don't you try to explain it?" The paper flipped, as it was running out of room, and Steve flinched a little.

_It's a lot more complicated that you'd think. I don't know if you'd understand. And I'm sorry I scared you_.

"You can see me?" Steve asked, surprised. The pages rustled again as words began to take shape.

_Yes, I can see you. But you can't see me. I've gotten pretty good at hiding. I don't come out like I used to._

"So if you let me, I could see you?" Steve asked, confused as to why he was intrigued about something that obviously wasn't human. "You have a physical form?"

_Kind of._

"Then why don't you show me?" Nothing showed up on the page for a few moments as if the thing behind them was apprehensive. 

_I don't know. Not many people are fond of the way I look. They get scared. _

"I've been through some shit," he said, trying to convince the being to show itself. "I'm sure it can't be that bad." Steve's mind raced trying to figure out what Bucky must look like.

_Maybe another time. I just wanted to get your attention._

"Well, you for sure did. It was you that took my sweater out of the closet, yeah?" Steve asked.

_I wanted to do something subtle so it didn't freak you out._

The writing stopped for a second.

_And I really liked the sweater. _

This made Steve laugh, and he would've continued trying to talk to Bucky, but Sarah called him downstairs.

_You'd better go. I'll leave you alone._

"Yeah, I'm gonna see what she needs," Steve told Bucky, getting up out of his chair. "I'm glad you introduced yourself. You know, so I didn't think I was going crazy." Bucky didn't write anything back to Steve, but if Steve could've seen him, he would've seen a small smile, something Bucky hadn't done in a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think!!


	3. Chapter 3

Steve’s mom was already outside when he got downstairs, and he slipped a pair of tennis shoes on before joining her in the backyard. He walked up behind her and watched her as she started to tend to the dirt. It was arranged in a white garden plot, and the sides of it came up about half a foot to keep it inside. She got Steve to work digging small holes in rows for her flowers while she worked on deciding what order to put them all in. Steve laughed at her as she argued with herself over whether to plant the Tulips next to the Camellias or the Pansies. 

“How about we alternate?” Steve asked her, sitting down on the ground and giving his knees a break from squatting. “Just mix them up, that way they all just flow together.” She raised her brow.

“That would definitely be easier than trying to decide how to sort them all out,” she replied. “I like that idea. Let’s do that.” She smiled at him, and as much as Steve would rather be doing something inside, he let himself enjoy his time with his mother, and they chatted and laughed as they planted every seed. When the last one had been covered with dirt, they sat back and looked around the yard. “We sure could use some more color back here,” she remarked, and Steve nodded his head. 

He had to admit, his mother had done a nice job in decorating the inside of the house, but the backyard could use some work. Just on the other side of their fence stood the forest, and sometimes, it made it feel a little drab out there. Sarah glanced at her watch.

“How about I make us some lunch?” She asked as she got up and dusted herself off. She reached out a hand to Steve, and he took it, pulling himself off the ground. As he got to his feet, he stopped in his tracks and stared behind her. “What is it?” She asked him, whipping around to try and see what Steve was looking at. 

Across the fence and in between the trees, Steve saw what looked like a person leaned up against one of them. They were a little too far away for him to make out what they looked like, but he knew a person when he saw one. 

“That person,” Steve said quietly. “The one in the woods. Don’t you see them?” Sarah turned around slowly, a confused look on her face. 

“Steve, I don’t see anyone out there.” Steve looked back at her for a seond. 

“They’re right there, mom. Look-” But he was stopped when he diverted his attention back to the woods and saw no sign of the person. “No, they were literally right there. I saw them,” Steve trailed off, realizing he was starting to sound like a crazy person. Sarah looked at him funny.

“Maybe we should just go inside, okay?” Reluctantly, Steve followed her to the door, and he took one more look into the trees, and he swore he saw someone duck behind one of them.

*

Sarah made the two of them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and she quickly forgot about the “person” Steve had seen outside. She merely dismissed it as him being tired and trying to adjust to the house, and as he finished, she suggested him going to take a nap. Steve agreed and made his way up the stairs as she cleaned off their plates, but not because he wanted to take a nap. He bypassed his room and walked straight into the office. The book was lying closed on the desk, and as he sat down, it opened right in front of him, but Bucky didn’t write anything. Taking the hint, Steve spoke up.

“Was that you that I saw in the woods?” He asked. 

_ Sorry if I made you look insane in front of your mom. _

“It’s okay. Why couldn’t she see you though?” This had confused Steve, because as he and his mother both looked in the same direction, she hadn’t seen Bucky when Steve knew there was someone standing there.

_ Not sure. Some people just can’t see us. _

“Us? You’re not the only one?”

_ Well, here I am. But like my kind in general. _

Steve sat back in the chair, trying to figure out if Bucky was saying what Steve thought he was hearing.

“Bucky, are you a ghost?” He asked. The paper shuffled a bit.

_ Basically, yes. I died here, Steve. _

Even though that’s kind of what he expected, Steve still couldn’t believe it. 

“For real? What happened to you?” Nothing appeared on the page. “Come on, you can tell me.” 

I think I’ve said too much. Maybe I should go.”

“No, wait!” Steve exclaimed, silently cursing himself and hoping his mother hadn’t heard him. “What does that mean?” Nothing. Bucky was either ignoring him now or had gone to a different part of the house because Steve got no answer from him. 

Over the next few days, Steve tried to talk to Bucky, but he found that the book was missing from the desk, and even though he could verbally ask Bucky what was going on, there wasn’t a way that Bucky could respond to him without the book or downright appearing in front of Steve, and Steve had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. There were things happening, however, that made Steve know that Bucky was still lurking around the house. 

Things would end up in different places than Steve left them, doors were opening and closing by themselves, rustling could be heard from the next room over, and Steve kept catching Sarah’s cat staring into empty corners. It kind of pissed him off that he knew that Bucky was there but not paying attention to him. In an attempt to find the book a week after it went missing, Steve went up stairs one day the next week and almost tore the room upside down looking for it. In every drawer, every crevice, in every piece of furniture in the room, he looked to no avail. It didn’t make sense to him how a perfectly whole book could just disappear like that, even though he was dealing with a ghost. As he looked in the cabinet drawers across the room from the desk one more time, he heard a soft voice come from behind him.

“Looking for this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are you guys liking this so far? let me know🥰


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this story is still a little slow, but i promise it'll pick up soon!! enjoy :)

Steve whipped around to see a boy standing behind his desk. He was about the same height as Steve, and although you would think he was human at first glance, Steve quickly noticed that his color was different than most, as he had a pale, almost gray color. 

“Bucky?” He asked, instantly knowing that’s who it had to be. The boy in front of him nodded, and he put the book back down on the table. “Where have you been?” Bucky shrugged his shoulders slightly. He opened his mouth, and Steve finally got to hear a voice come from Bucky instead of writing or things falling off shelves.

“I felt like I had said too much,” he told Steve. His voice was soft and quiet, almost as if he was timid. A timid ghost; what are the chances?

“What do you mean?” Steve pondered stepping towards the desk slowly, stopping when he saw Bucky tense up. “Are you okay?” Bucky let go of the book he was holding in his hand and placed it on the table. 

“I guess I’m just a little jumpy,” he replied. “I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. I usually don’t get this far.” Steve was still a bit confused, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Bucky, so he sat down on the edge of the desk slowly.

“This far?” He asked, and Bucky shrugged his shoulders. 

“It’s kind of hard to explain.” He sat down across from Steve in the chair behind the desk. Bucky had been at this house for years, thirty-six to be exact, and he had never once been able to succeed in talking to any of the inhabitants. He could already tell that something was different about Steve, but it didn’t stop him from being nervous. “But you’re the only person that’s ever expressed any kind of interest, so maybe I could try my best to help you understand.” Steve nodded and Bucky began from the beginning.

He told Steve how he’d lived in the house in the late 70s with his parents, and after he graduated high school, instead of going off to college like everyone else, he’d stayed back and decided to take a year off and work. His family wasn’t in favor of this decision, and his mother had attempted to kick him out, but his father refused to let her, which led to a strained relationship with her in the last few years of his life. Steve related to this, not having a relationship with one of his parents that is, but he felt his stomach churn when Bucky started talking about the day he lost his life. Obviously, Steve knew that this had happened, but to hear someone say it outloud? That was something no one was ready for.

“It was a few months after I graduated high school. August 3rd, 1983. Thirty-six years ago this summer.” Steve didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t every day that you got to talk to someone about their own murder.

“What happened?” Steve asked, not sure if that was overstepping or not. Bucky didn’t seem to be bothered.

“That’s my issue, Steve.” It was surprising to hear him say his name. “I don’t know who killed me, and that’s why I’m stuck here. It’s like unfinished business, you know?” Steve nodded and tried to process everything. 

“So basically, if you could figure out who killed you and what happened, you wouldn’t be stuck here anymore?” Steve asked.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Bucky told him. “Then maybe I’ll be able to cross over to the other side.” 

“Hm, maybe I could try to help you,” Steve suggested. Bucky shook his head. 

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. It would be too much work.” Steve began to protest.

“No it wouldn’t, Bucky. I’m here all summer with nothing to do. I’d love to help you.” He saw Bucky roll his eyes.

“Did you not hear the part where I told you it had been thirty-six years? I doubt there would be any solving it now,” he said, messing with the journal that he’d put on the desk.

“Then why did you try to get my attention?” Steve asked him as he opening the book and looked through the pages.

“Guess I honestly just wanted a friend. I’ve been lonely for a long time.” Steve’s heart ached for him. How awful it must be to be stuck somewhere with no one to talk to.

“Well I reckon I can be a friend.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> opinions so far?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so excited about where this story is going!!  
also thanks to my beta, sky, for helping me get this story started and catching all of my grammar mistakes 🥴 you're the best!!   
follow sky on tumblr @mad-the-second & twitter @madthesecond  
enjoy :)

Some days Bucky would hang out with Steve all day long. Some days he only talked to Steve for a few minutes. Every once in a while, Steve wouldn’t see him at all, and he wondered why it was hit or miss, but he didn’t ask.

Over the next few weeks, Steve learned more about Bucky and his life. He learned that his real name was James Buchanan Barnes (hence the J.B.B. in the journal). He learned that he always hated his name, so he went by “Bucky” even though his mother hated it.

“She refused to call me that,” Bucky told him as they sat upstairs in Steve’s room, Steve sitting with back against his headboard with Bucky sitting criss-cross on the end of the bed facing him. “She never once called me anything but James, and the occasional,  _ ‘James Buchanan!’ _ when she was mad at me.”

Steve laughed at Bucky’s impression of his mother, and he couldn’t help but smile at the grin on Bucky’s face. They usually ended up like this, laughing at one another for hours until Sarah called Steve downstairs to eat or help her in the yard. Bucky usually went down with him but stayed out of Sarah’s sight, attempting everything in the book to try and make Steve giggle. It worked,at first, but Steve had seen all of Bucky’s tricks, and now he’d just shake his head and watch Bucky give up.

“What about your dad? Were you close with him?” Steve asked, watching the expression on Bucky’s face change.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “He was my best friend. When my mom tried to kick me out, my dad stood up for me. There I was, a scared kid who didn’t want to go to college, afraid to leave home, and she was trying to force me to leave anyway. Maybe I should’ve left, you know? Things might’ve been different if I hasn’t stayed.” He stopped, looking around the room as if memories were flooding back to him. 

Steve knew that he was talking about the murder, and he wanted to change the subject, but Bucky spoke again. “The day it happened, I could see it all. I watched my dad come in and find me in my room.” He shook his head as if trying to forget the mental picture. It was then that Steve realized he’d never found out  _ how _ Bucky died, but he wasn’t so sure that asking would be the best idea. Almost as if Bucky could read Steve’s thoughts, he continued explaining, going into a bit more detail. “I don’t really remember anything about the murder itself. I just remember having this sensation of waking up in a dream. Where you don’t know how you got there, but you’re standing there looking at yourself. That kind of out-of-body experience thing, you know?” 

Steve nodded, intrigued with every word.

“That’s why I thought it was, a dream. But I realized quickly that it was like no dream I’d ever had. Everything seemed to stand still.” Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I remember my dad coming into the house and yelling that he was home,” Bucky said as he looked down at the bed, fumbling around with his fingers. “I tried to yell back at him, but I couldn’t. He kept calling for me, and he finally came upstairs,” Bucky trailed off, unable to disguise the look in his eyes while the memory played over and over again in his head. “I’ll never forget the look on his face, man.”

Bucky described the scene for Steve, and it was clear that it was vivid in his mind to this day. He told him about his father falling to his knees and crying out for Bucky, and Steve might’ve been mistaken, but he swore Bucky’s eyes glassed over a bit.

“It was so terrifying not being able to do anything. I was totally helpless, and I had to just...  _ watch _ .”

“Gosh, Bucky, I-” Steve stammered. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t imagine...” Bucky only nodded his head slightly. 

"I know it’s all crazy,” he told him. “That’s why it took me so long to talk to someone. No one else that I’ve ever come in contact with at this house has ever been welcoming. I’ve never gotten this far, Steve.”

That broke Steve’s heart. The fact that Bucky had been stuck there for all those years was enough to feel like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Steve said as he absentmindedly reached over and put his hand on Bucky’s in an act of sympathy. The chill on his skin shocked Steve - Sometimes over the past few weeks, it had been difficult to remember that Bucky was actually a ghost and not human anymore.

Bucky snapped his head to look at Steve, a surprised expression on his face, causing Steve to remove his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky reassured him, genuinely relieved at the touch of a human. It had been  _ so long _ . Before he could stop himself, a question spilled out of Steve’s lips. 

“Can you feel it?” Bucky looked confused.

“I’m sorry?” He said, not really sure what Steve meant. Steve cursed himself on the inside.

“I shouldn’t have asked that, Bucky. I don’t know why I did,” he apologized, but Bucky shook his head with a soft smile on his face, urging Steve to elaborate. “I guess I just- wasn’t sure if you could feel physical contact, you know, since you’re...” he said as he trailed off, not wanting to say the word, in fear of sounding like a child. Bucky finished for him.

“A ghost?” He asked, obviously unbothered, which calmed Steve’s worries. “No, I get it. It’s a logical question. Don’t sweat it.” Steve nodded, and Bucky tried his best to answer. “I mean, I guess I can, but kind of can’t at the same time. That doesn’t make sense, does it?” Steve answered by shaking his head no. “Okay, how about this: you know when you sleep on your arm wrong? And you wake up, touch it, and you can kind of feel it, but not quite?” It was a strange way to explain it, but Steve knew exactly what Bucky was talking about. “That’s sort of it, minus the tingling feeling. Long story short, I can feel your hand on mine, but only softly. Like a trace,” Bucky said, looking over at Steve. He knew this was way too much information to take in at once, so he threw in one last reassurance. 

“And Steve? Don’t feel like you can’t ask me questions. I know all of this is a lot.” Bucky shifted his body to face Steve. “It’s not everyday that you meet a ghost in your house and get sucked into their shenanigans.” This made Steve laugh. 

“It’s not everyday that you meet a ghost in your house who’s so kind and normal that you forget he’s a ghost, either,” Steve retaliated. Bucky smiled at him.

“It’s just nice to have a friend. It’s been a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any guesses or theories so far? let me know!!
> 
> xo caro


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TW for this chapter: mentions of possible suicide method and substance abuse*  
thanks to my lovely beta, sky <3 you can find both of our social medias in the end notes.  
enjoy!

Bucky wasn’t very enthusiastic about solving his own murder - something that made no sense to Steve - but he couldn’t help but _ wonder _ . Every time he and Bucky talked, or hung out around the house, Steve seemed to forget about the truth. In his head, he brushed off all of the reminders that Bucky was a ghost. He was just so damn _ human _ in a way that Steve couldn’t explain. 

Maybe it was because Steve had never had a _ real _ friend before, or maybe it was because he felt bad for Bucky. Whatever the reason, Bucky seemed no less human than the next guy, but that only lasted when they were together. As Steve laid his head down at night or ate breakfast with his mom or did basically anything that didn’t have to do with Bucky, he couldn’t get him out of his stupid head. He let Bucky infiltrate his thoughts, and soon, Steve couldn’t pinpoint a single hour in the last few weeks that he hadn't been with Bucky or thinking about him. There was something about him that Steve’s brain just couldn’t let go.

Most of the time, when someone can’t stop thinking about another person, everyone’s first call is infatuation, but that wasn’t it. Steve just genuinely saw a friend in Bucky, even though he wasn’t even sure if he could be an accurate judge of who was a friend and who wasn’t. Friends weren’t exactly his strong suit.

Nonetheless, Steve was enjoying Bucky's company, and Bucky was enjoying his, too. After a lonely thirty-six years, this was just what Bucky needed.

Sometimes Steve would get brave and bring it up, but Bucky always shut him down.

_ (“But don’t you think it would be nice to get to the bottom of it? To put it all behind you?” Steve asked him, as he had so many times before. _

_ Once again, Bucky shook his head and sighed. “Steve, I have put it behind me. I’ve let it go. Why can’t _ ** _you_ ** _ ?) _

Steve never knew how to answer that question. He just had this indescribable desire to help Bucky. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but something deep inside him told him that he _ had _ to. He just had to. So, on the spare moments when he was away from Bucky, he did research. Not that he thought Bucky was some kind of crazy stalker, but Steve knew that he couldn’t always see him, so he wasn’t always sure if he was really alone. He was afraid of Bucky catching him looking stuff up, and he didn’t want to upset him.

So he just did it outside of the house.

Sarah would often ask Steve to go out to lunch with her, and it had kind of become a weekly thing for them. Steve looked forward to Fridays, because that was the day that her work slowed down enough for them to leave the house for an hour or two. One particular day, as they were waiting on their food to be brought to the table, Steve found a PDF file of the newspaper report from the day Bucky died, and it made him sick to his stomach. Now he kind of understood why Bucky didn’t like to go into detail and discuss it. 

** _August 3rd, 1983_ **

_ James Buchanan Barnes of Brooklyn, New York was pronounced dead yesterday evening after a 911 call was made by his father. Barnes, 18, who often went by “Bucky” was found dead in the upstairs bedroom of his home, and it has been suggested by authorities that his death was self-inflicted, due to the position he was found in: hanging from the ceiling. An autopsy will be performed tomorrow, and the results could either confirm or deny this theory. The city sends its condolences to the Barnes family. Left behind are his parents, George and Winifred Barnes, and his sister, Rebecca. _

But that didn’t make any sense to Steve. Bucky had told him that he was murdered. Why did the report say differently? As he searched for the newspaper from the following day, Sarah interrupted his thoughts.

“You okay, sweetie?” She asked. “You sure are quiet today.” Steve put his phone down. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just a little tired,” he told her with a smile, and before she could say anything else, the waitress was at the table, sitting things down in front of them.

“Enjoy,” she said brightly, and for a while, Steve was able to forget about Bucky, but once they’d finished, his mind immediately flew back to thoughts of him.

On the way home, he found the next report he’d been looking for, and he almost lost his shit.

** _August 4th, 1983_ **

_ Following up on yesterday’s story on the death of local teenager, James Barnes, local authorities revealed this morning that the autopsy confirmed the death as suicide. The burn marks on the neck of Barnes were severe enough that coroners have ruled they were made before death, ruling out the suspicion of Barnes’ parents that he was staged in the position he was found in. There were also traces of Oxycodone found in his system, but it wasn’t enough to actually cause death, just enough to cause delirium, which made him act on suicidal thoughts. It has also been stated by some of his former teachers that he was a loner, so a self-inflicted death has been the most plausible explanation to investigators thus far. _ _ Once again, the city of Brooklyn offers their condolences to the Barnes family. _

Drugs in his system? Bucky never said anything about that. Not that Steve thought he would have, but the drugs don’t really make sense if he was murdered. Was that something about the story that Steve didn’t know?

Of course, they were good friends at this point, but when Steve really thought about it, he realized that he knew almost nothing about Bucky’s past life. What if there was something that Bucky wasn’t telling him? Something important that could give him a clue? 

Unable to brush it off, this bothered Steve for the rest of the day, and even Bucky could tell that something was up.

“You okay, Steve?” He asked, prompting him to try to loosen up.

“Yeah, I’m good. What makes you ask that?”

Bucky shrugged. “You just seem a little off. Something happen when you were out with your mom?” Steve shook his head. 

“Nope. Lunch was good. Maybe I’m just tired,” he suggested, trying to play it off. He wasn’t entirely sure that Bucky believed him, but that’s what he went with, and he changed the subject.

That didn’t get Bucky off of his ass, however, and it was just two days later that Bucky caught him reading the reports on his computer.

“Steve, _ what the hell are you doing? _” He asked with no warning. Steve slammed his laptop shut and jolted out of his seat. He whipped around to see Bucky standing behind him. Knowing there wasn’t a way to cover for himself, Steve got straight to the point, seeing no sense in lying to Bucky.

“Look, just let me explain,” he said, watching Bucky cross his arms and raise his eyebrows. Steve sighed. “I know you said not to get involved, but I just couldn’t help myself. I just have this voice inside me telling me that I have to help you-”

“_ Help _ me?” Bucky asked, his tone quickly becoming stern like Steve had never heard it. “Why do you need to _ help me _, Steve? You can’t help me."

“I just couldn’t take my mind off of you. I’m really sorry for getting into your business - but I just found the death report, and the fact that you took Oxys before you died just made me wonder if you really were murdered or _ maybe _ if you had it twisted and that was why you were still stuck here and-”

“Wait, _ what did you say? _” Bucky asked suddenly, not so stern anymore.

“I said I didn’t know if you were really murdered or-”

Bucky interrupted him again, waving his hand in a circle as to back Steve up. “No, no, no, before that. About the Oxys.”

Steve looked at him funny. “The pills you took? The ones they found in your system during the autopsy?” Bucky almost lost his footing as he sat down on Steve’s bed. "What’s going on, Bucky?”

“Steve, I never took anything. And I mean _ anything _,” he said. “Where did you see that?”

Steve reached for his laptop and opened it back up to show Bucky the reports. “The reports from the week you died. There were in the newspaper. You’ve never seen them?”

Bucky threw a sarcastic glance at Steve. 

“Yeah, Steve, ‘cause the first thing I did after literally dying was go read the paper,” he said, yanking the laptop from Steve, prompting Steve to retaliate and take it back from him.

“Hey! Lose the attitude,” he retorted. Bucky looked at him, surprised to see him standing up for himself, but immediately felt bad. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. This is just all a little overwhelming,” he said softly, and Steve handed him back the laptop. 

“Tell me about it,” he said, leaning in with intentions of reading along with Bucky. Instead, he watched Bucky’s eyes go back and forth across the page. This was one of the moments, one of those he kept observing, that made Bucky seem more human than anyone else. All of his emotions shownd clearly through his eyes, as dull and gray as they were, and it broke Steve’s heart. The amount of trauma that Bucky had gone through was unmeasurable.

“I can’t believe this,” Bucky said, as he moved the laptop to put in on the bed. “They _ drugged _me? Whatever sorry son of a bitch killed me came in here and drugged me first? What a fucking piece of shit,” he said quietly, Steve watching his every move.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I really thought you already knew,” Steve apologized. “I promise, from now on, I’ll stay out of it. I won’t even bring it up anymore.”

“Steven!” Sarah’s voice echoed from downstairs. Steve sighed. 

“Just a sec!” He yelled back, but Bucky gestured as if to tell him to go. Steve got up off of the bed and headed towards the door, but Bucky stopped him before he got out into the hallway. “Steve?” He said, just barely above a whisper. Steve turned around. 

"Yeah?” Bucky swallowed nervously. 

“I don’t want you to stay out of it.” Steve cocked his head slightly in confusion. _“Let’s figure out who this motherfucker was.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what are we thinking so far??
> 
> follow me on tumblr & twitter: @barnesiove  
follow sky on tumblr: @mad-the-second & twitter: @madthesecond


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